I tore free, turned, and threw my fishing pole at him.

Her entire bow section had been torn free, stood nose out of the water a short distance off.

She heard his cry deep in her mind: the firebird's voice torn free.

He tore free a piece of bread and closed his mouth over it.

Then one gained his back and the second tore free.

She tore free, backed up, and felt something skid through the air near her.

Even then, a normal man might not have been able to tear free.

If I knocked out that bottom one, it would probably tear free and come right down.

The bush started to tear free, but I threw myself forward and got a fresh grip on the rock.

Her arms felt like they would tear free from their sockets.